


Little Talks

by Captain_Panda



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Character Study, Dialogue-Only, Established Relationship, Gen, Happy Ending, Heavy Themes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Steve Rogers-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25608727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Panda/pseuds/Captain_Panda
Summary: The city that never sleeps needs a hero.It gets Steve Rogers, a kid from Brooklyn who never met a fight he walked away from, no matter how small.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 63





	Little Talks

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, champs.
> 
> Yours truly. Here there be heavy themes, including mentions of suicide and substance abuse. Because this fic is entirely dialogue, nothing is explicitly shown, but the ideas are certainly there.
> 
> Some authors write difficult pieces when they are in difficult places. I am emerging from a difficult place, so this is my "happy to be here with you" fic. It's pretty heavy, but it's been a pretty heavy month. To make a long story short, I have a heart condition that a medication I was taking dangerously exacerbated. I'm happy to report that I'm finally back to doing what I love. While far from normal, things are at least stabilizing.
> 
> Sadly, I missed my fic anniversary, but I am so proud of how far we have come in a year. 716,024 published words from June 28, 2019 to June 28, 2020. While I doubt I'll shatter it this year, reach for the stars, right? <3
> 
> Cheers, and thanks for being here. You're all champions, and I believe in your ability to triumph, completely.
> 
> Yours affectionately,  
> -Cap'n Panda

_Sunday night_.

“Hey, pal. You wanna come back over on this side?”

“No. I’m—I’m going to do it. I’m going to jump.”

“Look, fella—you got a name? What’s your name? Mine’s Steve. It’s actually Steven, but everybody calls me Steve.”

“I don’t want to talk to you. I’m going to jump.”

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Just come back over. You want—want a hug? Or a, well, I can’t give you a cigarette but how about a cuppa coffee? They make some really good coffee just down the road, I’d be happy to get you some.”

“Please leave me.”

“Nah, I can’t do that, pal. I can’t leave a guy who’s hurting as bad as you. You’re human, too, fella. So why don’t you come over here, huh? It’s real easy, I know you can do it, I’ll catch you, okay? I’ll catch you on this side. Just come on over.”

“Everyone leaves me.”

“It hurts. Hurts a lot, but you gotta stay with me, or we can’t get any kind of Band-Aid on that wound. It’s just gonna keep hurting if you stay over there. Come on over, pal. It’s not far, just a couple—”

“I’m—I have to do this.”

“Listen, buddy—you’re in a real tough spot. You’re trying real hard. But you gotta look at me, look at me, pal, hold onto that fence and look at me—see me? I’m right here with you. I won’t let you go. I won’t let you fall. Just come on over and I’ll give you a hug.”

“I don’t want to. I don’t want to.”

“Come on. Easy. See, I’m right here, you can see me. You can see me. I can see you, you know that? And it’s too dark for somebody like you to be on the other side. So just climb over, I’ll hold your hand, okay? You won’t fall. Nothing bad’ll happen to you. Come on over. That’s it.”

“I have to—”

“Hey, hey, there’s no have to, right now. It’s me and you. Come on over. I’ll give you a hug. You want a hug?”

“I—”

“That’s it. That’s it. See, you’re almost there. I’ve got you. I’ve got your back, chief, just hang in there. Almost there.”

“I—I can’t. I can’t.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Take a breath. Musta been hard, but you’re strong, and I’m here, I’ll catch you. You can do this. There you go. There you go. Almost. Hey, look—see—I gotcha, I gotcha—”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“S’okay. Hey, what’re you apologizing for? You made it. I’m so proud of you. You did it. C’mere, pal. I promised you a hug, didn’t I? That’s it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“C’mon. Let’s go get warm, okay? We can talk.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. You’re not in trouble. You cold? You’re shaking. Here, let’s get you warmed up, all right? Been out here a while? It’s all right now. It’s gonna be all right.”

“Thank you. Thank you.”

“Nothing of it. Appreciate you coming back over. You did good, kid. You did good.”

* * *

_Monday morning_.

“Hey, tiger.”

“Hey, if it isn’t my guy—how you doing, Rogers?”

“How you doin’, Duke?”

“Been too damn long since I’ve seen you. Thought you’d walked off the face of the Earth.”

“Sorry. Duty calls. You stayin’ warm? Nights are getting colder.”

“I’m all right. I’m all right.”

“Come get a meal with me, I wanna catch up.”

“Oh, you don’t owe me a meal, I owe _you_ —”

“Not a thing. C’mon. It’s the least I can do.”

“Least you can do is keep walkin’ by. You do a lot more than that.”

“Yeah, well. Everybody’s gotta eat. Besides—talked to half the homeless population on this side and only had a knife pulled on me twice. That’s friendlier than general population.”

“Amen. Bloodsuckers.”

“Full of ambition. What about you? What’s your ambition?”

“Call it a lucky start to keep my shoes.”

“Somebody steal ‘em, chief?”

“Third pair this month. Swear I’m gonna screw ‘em into my soles if that’s what it takes to keep ‘em on.”

“That’s one way. You need anything?”

“S’a matter of fact, I could use a new toothbrush. Nobody ever asks. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the coupons, but I could really use a toothbrush.”

“You got it.”

“Bless you.”

“Think nothing of it.”

“. . . You know, people stare when you’re with me. You ever think about that?”

“No. They always stare. Should see me when I’m in uniform.”

“Heh. Amen to that.”

“So, what’s been goin’ on? Forget them and talk to me.”

* * *

_Tuesday morning_.

“All right, who’s up for a walk?”

“Why, good morning, Mr. Rogers.”

“Good morning, Sally. Who’s up?”

“Take Kettle. She could use some fresh air.”

“Yeah? Hey, sweet girl. You wanna show me the city today?”

“It’s very kind of you to do this, Mr. Rogers. We do our best here, but the shelter—it’s busy, you know? Sometimes, it’s hard to—well, it’s nice, that you do it.”

“Nothing of it. Makes my day more interesting. C’mon, sweet girl. Let’s go for a walk. Good dog.”

* * *

_Tuesday afternoon_.

“You tell the most wonderful stories, Jeanine.”

“And you’re a _wonderful_ listener, dear.”

“Think nothing of it. I enjoy talking with you.”

“I bore most people.”

“I can’t see why. You’ve lived an amazing life. I’m honored that you share it with me.”

“You’re a wonderful man. I wish there were more people like you.”

“Lots of people like me. Just out there.”

“Tell them to come out more. I still like dinner guests. I’ve been told my cherry pie is divine.”

“The most American thing there is.”

“Amen to that.”

“I’d love to try it sometime. If you’d have me.”

“I’d love to have you. Is there anyone special in your life? They’d be welcome, too. Anyone good enough for Steve Rogers is good enough for me.”

“That’s awful kind of you, ma’am. I’ll ask.”

“How about Sunday? I should be free around five.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

* * *

_Wednesday afternoon_.

_Spelling better._

_Thanks. I practice._

_Hobby?_

_Friend. Deaf. How are you?_

_Small fish, big sea. Different from home. I miss it._

_Stay here? Go back to Maine?_

_Stay. I like my job. Good people. Deaf. That’s new._

_Good?_

_Very good. Miss Independent. We go to clubs together._

_God bless America._

_God bless America. How are you?_

_Nothing new. Busy. Happy._

_You? Happy? It’s a miracle._

_Little happy. Big busy._

_Try big happy, little busy._

_Try. No promises._

_Be good._

_You, too._

* * *

_Thursday morning._

“Oh, aren’t you a sweet boy?”

“I do my best, ma’am. Anything else I can do for you?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine, dear. Thank you. My, I can’t remember the last time a gentleman walked me anywhere.”

“Busy road. I could stand to walk a little longer, if you don’t mind the company.”

“Mind it? I’d love it. Tell me, dear—did you know you look an awful lot like that Captain America fella?”

“I get that a lot. Nothing of it. Everybody just calls me Steve.”

“Well, Steve, you are a treasure.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Just doin’ what I can.”

* * *

_Thursday night_.

“Fuck you!”

“Easy, pal. I don’t want any trouble.”

“Think you, you freaks can just come in and, and _take over_ , huh? Nobody wants you here! Nobody asked for it!”

“I get that you’re angry.”

“You don’t _get_ _it_!”

“And I wanna help you. Something’s not right with you, buddy. I can see it. I just wanna help.”

“I don’t _need_ your help, you—get away from me!”

“All right. All right—I won’t come any closer, I’m staying right here. Just put the bottle down, all right? I don’t want you to hurt yourself with it.”

“Goddammit, I’ll _kill_ myself if I want to, and you can’t stop me!”

“Pal, you need to sit down, you’ll keel over if you don’t.”

“Don’t need you to—need _any_ of you—think you can just—”

“I’m a New Yorker, too, you know? Born and raised—I _lived_ in these alleys. And I know when something ain’t right. Some people, they’d let you go, but I can’t walk away. I don’t wanna see anything bad happen to you. Something ain’t right here, and I need you to talk to me.”

“I—don’t—owe— _anything_.”

“No, you don’t. But I’m on your team. And maybe we’d end up in agreement if we could just sit down and have a conversation. Would it help if I sat down? I think I need to get you to a doctor, buddy, but I’ll sit, if you want.”

“No—no, no—fuck you, fuck you—”

“All right. I’ll sit.”

“God—dammit. Why? Why me?”

“Why not you? You’re here, aren’t you? And I’m here. So I guess it’s gonna be me and you who tango tonight, pal. Why don’t you sit with me?”

“I—I don’t—I don’t want to, I don’t—you’re—”

“I am not your enemy. I might just be your only friend right now. So why don’t you help me, help _you_?”

“. . . I don’t . . . I don’t need help.”

“I think you do. I’m here to offer it.”

“Why? What do you want? You can’t have it. Get out.”

“I don’t _want_ anything. I _want_ you to take it easy before you hurt yourself.”

“You don’t even _know_ me.”

“No, and I don’t know most of the people in this city, either. Does that mean I wanna see you on the streets like this? Absolutely not. I wanna get you home. You look rough.”

“I’m—I’m just—”

“Hey. Why don’t we—”

“Don’t— _touch_ me.”

“I won’t. But why don’t we take a walk, all right? Just come with me, I’ll stick with you, make sure nothing happens. All right?”

“What’s gonna happen? What’s gonna happen?”

“Nothin’. But I don’t want you to just stay here, stuck in the mud. You need help, pal. This is me, givin’ it. You gonna take it, or leave it?”

“I—I don’t need it.”

“That’s what a lotta people say, when they most need it. Tell themselves, they’ve been through enough, why should they ask for a little when they’re in so deep they can’t remember what it’s like to take one clean breath? But I can help you. I’m here to help now. Wish I coulda been here sooner, but I’m here now.”

“Why? Why help me?”

“Because. You’re somebody. You need somebody. Consider me it.”

“I—I—”

“C’mon. C’mon, pal. Let’s go. I’ll help you, or I’ll walk with you, but I won’t leave you. All right?”

“Didn’t think you—you freaks, were like this. Live up in that mansion. All above us. Some folks, they call it, call it Mount _Olympus_. Know what I think? Huh? Huh?”

“What do you think, chief?”

“I think—I—I think, you can’t, you don’t wanna be near us. The _little people_. We’re ants under your feet.”

“Got it all wrong, doc. We’re in the same boat.”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘til you, you go home, to your mansion, and leave us all to rot, huh?”

“Just keep walkin’, chief. You’re doing good.”

“Leave us all to _rot_. We scrape by, you . . . you’re up there, and we’re just supposed to take it? Fuck you.”

“Easy, pal. One step at a time.”

“I—he died, you know. My brother. He was at work, and they came, from the sky, and he died. He was at work. Doin’ his job. Why’m I alive and he’s dead, huh? What’d I do wrong? He was buried in a thousand feet of ash and rubble and I’m still here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. You’re still alive. You and all your—your _freaks_. You’re still here. He’s not. He’s never coming back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I hate you. I hate all’a you. I’d kill you, if I could. But they’d hang me for it.”

“One foot in front of the other, chief.”

“You brought them here. You brought them on us.”

“Watch your step. There’s a curb.” 

“We were fine before you came here!”

“It’ll be all right.”

* * *

_Thursday night_.

“Lookin’ a little worn around the edges tonight, Rogers.”

“I hand you the wrong bills again, Dan?”

“No, no. Here’s your change.”

“Thanks. How’s Alice?”

“Oh, she’s good. Recoverin’. Back surgery’s tough, but she’s tougher. What’s up with you? Don’t usually see you out this late.”

“Not in a talkin’ mood tonight, Dan. Say hi to Alice for me.”

“Will do. Hey, look out for yourself.”

“Always do. And Dan?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You’re a good man.”

“Gee, Cap. Means a lot, comin’ from you.”

“Nothing of it.”

* * *

_Friday morning_.

“Hey, Duke.”

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Rogers.”

“Brought you some presents. Toothbrush, toothpaste, socks. Candy bars.”

“You spoil me.”

“Still got the same shoes.”

“Still got ‘em. I feel good about this pair. Thank you, sir. You are a real hero.”

“Nothing of it. I’m just lookin’ out. Need anything else? Can I get you a—”

“No, no. I’m set. For now. Go home. Don’t you have one? Startin’ to think you’re as lost as me.”

“No. Just . . . had some free time. I’m sorry. I’ve been away too long, haven’t I?”

“Nah, man. You’re busy. I get it. You’re an _Avenger_. Fact that you even talk to me is a miracle.”

“It’s an honor, Duke.”

“You as well, Rogers.”

* * *

_Friday night_.

“Thanks for coming out, Captain. We weren’t expecting you.”

“Think nothing of it. I’m—so sorry. Truly.”

“It happens. It’s part of the job. It’s never pretty, but—we can’t save them all.”

“I’m—I—your officers, they can handle this?”

“Absolutely. We appreciate your help, of course, but—”

“I’m sorry. I have to go.”

“Thanks, anyway, Captain.”

* * *

_Saturday night_.

“Hey, hon.”

“Hey . . . hon.”

“My bushel of love, the cream on my pie, the bacon to my asparagus—”

“Don’t know where you’re going with that one, but I’m gonna stop you there.”

“Ouch. Not even a, _God, you’re a stud, take me now?_ Some _welcome home_ committee.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hi sorry, I’m _thirsty_. Do you even know how dry jet-plane air is? I am one level above dehydrated astronaut food.”

“Delightful.”

“Yes, I am. . . . And what’s up with you? You’re being weird.”

“Weird?”

“Haven’t done the, _Did you get enough sleep on the flight home?_ spiel yet.”

“Not that late.”

“No, but it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it? . . . _So_. Apple to my crisp. What’ve you been up to?”

“Usual.”

“ _Usual_.”

“You know. Work. It’s busy.”

“It is busy. _God_. We need a vacation.”

“I like it here.”

“I don’t. It’s freezing. Let’s go to Kauai. Do you know how beautiful Kauai is this time of year? _Breathtaking_. You’d love it, white sand, empty beaches, sun your buns—”

“Tony.”

“What?”

“. . . Did you get enough sleep on the flight home?”

“Slept like a _baby_ , thanks for asking. What about you? Looks like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“Been busy.”

“At work?”

“Something like.”

“. . . _Cryptic_ is a weird look on you. Is this your belated angsty teen phase? Because I’m too old to be hip with this, I’m gonna need you to break it down in King’s English. Doth perils approach you in the—”

“There was another jumper.”

“A what?”

“Last night.”

“A—I’m sorry—did you say a _jump_ —”

“Police—by the time I got there, it was too late.”

“Shit.”

“I—I couldn’t save her, Tony.”

“Hey. Look at me. No, look at me. It is not your job—”

“It’s never a _job_ , Tony, it’s—these are _people_ we’re dealing with. And now—now there’s a body because I wasn’t _there_.”

“We . . . Fuck. Steve. I need a drink. I really need a drink. Please hold. Your call is very important to us—”

“God, Tony, not now, please—”

“Look, I slept like a baby but I’m so jetlagged my teeth hurt, I need a second. Steve. Honey. You just—you can’t—you _can’t_. Does that make sense?”

“Tony, it’s about— _lives_ , _people_. And every single one of them is—”

“—is _not_ your responsibility. Understand?”

“I coulda _done_ something, I _shoulda_ done something. If I’d run the second I got the call, maybe—”

“How did you even _get_ the call? You been listening to the police scanner?”

“J.A.R.V.I.S. lets me know—sub-Avengers level threats, but—”

“Exactly. Steve, _exactly_. Sub-Avengers level—ergo, _not our proble_ —”

“Dammit, Tony! _It’s not a job!_ It’s about people! They’re real people and they need us and—and—and I failed. A person is dead because I wasn’t there and I—”

“Okay, look. Listen. Look deeply into my eyes. God, I’m sorry, I’m really—I’m _trying_ , okay? Steve. It’s okay. I know. It’s not. It’s not. Maybe it never will be and—okay, channeling optimism. I don’t know why I’m even saying it, but I need you to believe this: it’s okay. It will be. Something. Something. Can I hug you?”

“. . . what?”

“I just—you need it, I need it, say something?”

“. . . It’s how I talk ‘em down, sometimes. You believe that? Thing that stands between life and death is a hug.”

“Jesus, Steve.”

“And . . . and I know, I know it’s not my _job_ to look after people, that the only guy I gotta look out for is _you_ —”

“I’m flattered, really, but I also hope you’re implicitly including yourself in that equation or I’m gonna have to break out the _loving thyself_ PowerPoint and God, that’s a doozy, I’m never flying an overseas redeye _again_ —”

“I—I know, not everybody’s gonna want help, or to talk, or to even come back over. I know that some people, they’re—they’re angry, they got their own issues, they’re working on. They don’t _need_ my help. I know the world would keep turning if I wasn’t around—”

“Hey. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“But I—”

“No, circle back. You think the world goes on without you? Steve, you _are_ the world. I don’t have a you, I don’t know what I’d do. God, that was cheesy, but—you want cheesy? I honestly don’t even _know_ how many layers of Hell I would invent to walk through just to demonstrate my unceasing love for you. You are the comet I would wait seven hundred years to see again, even if you just disintegrated in Jupiter’s orbit like Shoemaker-Levi did in—not relevant. Babe. I _love_ you. And I know I am a fucking wreck and my shirt is inside out and I am actually going to have feelings about this, but I am shelving those feelings because this is more important, and what was I saying? You did nothing wrong. I wish I had words that weren’t _God I wish I could kiss it better_ because I don’t think those are the right words, and—”

“I love you.”

“Oh, hey, those were the right words. I’m a—not the time, I’m uplifting _you_. You, mister—come here. . . . Honestly. I—I wish I had words. I always have words. That’s what you do to me. You render me speechless. Can you feel the echoing silence?”

“It’s so damn loud, Tony.”

“I know. I do know, that one, actually—love, loss, whole shebang. I’m your guy. Also, how to drink anyone who isn’t native to Russia under a table, but— _also_ not relevant. Unless you wanna drink the night away? Eighty percent sure Thor keeps a stash of booze somewhere—”

“Thank you, Tony.”

“Wow, I’m on fire. Uh, why am I on—”

“You—you make it—okay. Again.”

“Gee. I’m a god. Ahem. I’m a good person. There. My humility therapy is working wonders.”

“Humility therapy?”

“Patent pending. Pretty sure a ten-year-old saying, _‘Nice ‘stache,’_ also counts, which, by the way, am I out-of-touch with fashion trends or should I sue for slander—”

“You’re beautiful, Tony.”

“Oh. Good. So, I am suing for slander.”

“Tony.”

“God, I love the way you say my name.”

“I love you.”

“Say that ten times fast and I might marry you.”

“Already did.”

“Gee. I’m a clever guy. Who married a clever guy. Our cleverness is— _unstoppable_.”

“Thank you.”

“Nourish my soul, honey, specificity is the fruit of the gods.”

“I—I feel more . . . I feel _home_. When you’re here. Like I can breathe.”

“. . . _Can_ I marry you twice?”

“No. Then we’d have to get a divorce.”

“Ah. Damn. Those are messy. Looks terrible for PR, too.”

“I love you.”

“Nine more and you’re golden.”

“I love you.”

“Seven. Six. Five.”

“Forgot eight.”

“Darling, I am _sinking_ into a bed of super-soldier chest, which is somehow better for my back than that very expensive bed we have.”

“It is a very nice bed.”

“Thank you. It’s very expensive. But _you_ —well, I guess you were expensive, too.”

“I just—I—”

“You do. You always do.”

“Don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“You wanna do good. Make the world a better place. You wanna fix the city’s problems, one problem at a time. Feed the poor, heal the sick, spend time with the lonely. Am I close?”

“Don’t know how you do it.”

“I read people for a _living_. It is my job to woo people. Charm them. But . . . it’s also _not_ a job. Because you don’t stop seeing people, as people. If you’re not a soulless demon, which some people, surprise, are. But I’m not a soulless demon, and you’re not a soulless demon, either. You save people from burning buildings and doomsday events. Of course you’re gonna take the everyday stuff personally, too. But we . . . we have to remember what matters. And what matters is, we can do a lot of good, even if we can’t fix everything. The world is a fucked-up mess. But it’s also beautiful. Don’t lose sight of the beautiful just because we got a lotta work to do. Got it?”

“I’ll try.”

“That’s my man. And, hey—you said another jumper? Dare I ask?”

“Yeah. Young guy. Tough life. Wanted . . . not out, just—an out. You know? Outlet. Somebody to . . . talk to. For a while.”

“. . . You really are something else, Steve Rogers.”

“Good something?”

“Best something.”

“You’re my best something, Tony Stark.”

“Ooh. _Best_ something. New record.”

“Was there an old one?”

“Implicitly. Hey.”

“Hm?”

“I’m home. You’re home. It’s gonna be okay.”

“It is. I do believe that.”

“Attaboy. Now. I am incapable of moving. If the Tower burns down, please carry me out like the world’s sexiest fireman. That’s your new job-calling. Capiche?”

“Thought I was the Captain.”

“Oh, God. Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight, Tony.”

* * *

_Sunday afternoon._

“Hello, Jeanine.”

“Oh, Mr. Rogers—I’m so glad you came.”

“Wouldn’t miss it. This is my—”

“Darling husband. It’s lovely to meet you. Steve’s told me all about you.”

“Has he?”

“Oh yes.”

“Well, I can’t wait to hear all about _you_.”

“Be happy to tell you.”

“See? A cooperative witness. Let’s see, it all started when I was three—”

“ _Tony_.”

“No, this is a good one. It all started when I was three and Jarvis told me a screwdriver was not an appropriate child’s toy—”


End file.
